Interesting indeed.
* * * *
From time to time throughout the evening I’d spot Mark: curling his lip at a canapé before disposing of it, chatting with various men and women, dancing….
He was an excellent dancer, and he made all his partners look good.
I watched as he tangoed with one young woman—she was entirely too young for him—and waltzed with another, gliding across the floor with elegance and style.
What would it be like to waltz with Mark? I had never danced with a member of my own s*x, not even with Armand in the giddy afterglow of our discovered passion for each other.
Mark’s shoulder was at a height where I could comfortably rest my head upon it—
I pushed that idea from my mind, smiled at Mrs. Franklin, who I’d asked for this waltz, and placed my hand on her waist.
* * * *
